The Perfect Pain of Love
by luvcmpunk314
Summary: John Cena and CM Punk have embraced both their love and their roles as Dom and sub. But the world outside the sensuous pleasures of the playroom can sometimes be a harsh and ugly place. Are the bonds that tie them together strong enough to hold when faced with the forces of envy and betrayal? Or will they fall apart when too many struggles come their way? Pt 2 of SC&L. m/m
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: John Cena and CM Punk have embraced both their love and their roles as Dom and sub. But the world outside the sensuous pleasures of the playroom can sometimes be a harsh and ugly place. Are the bonds that tie them together strong enough to hold when faced with the forces of envy and betrayal? Or will they fall apart when too many struggles come their way? Part Ii of Sweat, Chains, and Love

**Story Warning**: m/m sex, BDSM, cursing.

**A/N**: Hi guys! Hope everyone had a wonderful summer. I hope you didn't think I'd abandoned you, I got caught up writing a fic for Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose. But I'm back now ready to torture our boys some more. If you're new to this story you are certainly welcome to jump in here, but you might prefer to go back and read Sweat, Chains and Love to get the most from the story. We're picking up a couple of days after the playroom at the October Hell in a Cell pay-per-view. Enjoy!

* * *

John sat in catering next to Punk. Ryder was across from them talking about ending his YouTube show. John wasn't really in the conversation, he was content to sit with Punk, softly stroking the back of his neck and listening to them rant. Punk as always, was riled up at the thought of the company doing something he didn't agree with. He was on Ryder's side, pissed that they'd interfered so much in the content of the show. John smiled to himself and squeezed Punk's neck lightly. Punk leaned into his touch a little more while he continued ranting with Zack. Finally Ryder sighed and smacked his palms down on the table.

"It is what it is, bro." He stood up. "Alright, I'm out of here." He slapped Punk's hand and nodded bye at John. John didn't say anything, he just nodded back. Punk was so riled up he'd slapped Ryder's hand a little too hard. That made him want to laugh, especially as he saw Ryder try not to wince.

Punk turned to John after Ryder was gone and caught his smile. "Why are you looking all lovey-dovey?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I love you?" John squeezed Punk's neck again. "Or maybe because I was thinking of how beautiful you were as you flew for me in our playroom the other day." He hadn't been, but he wanted to see Punk's reaction to the reminder. Punk blushed slightly, lowering his eyes. John loved it. Loved that Punk moved so easily between his usual contrary self and being submissive to him. "But yeah, mostly because I love you. You and your determination to fight the man."

Punk snorted. "Fucking execs. They know they're wrong for ruining Ryder's show. They just don't want to admit that he can do something better than they can."

Punk stiffened as Ryback came into the room and John noticed. "You worried about facing him tonight?" They were in Atlanta for the October pay-per-view, Hell in a Cell.

Punk shrugged. "No. I'm ready for it. I just hope he doesn't get gassed half way through the damn match."

John frowned. Don't kill yourself trying to carry his weight if he does. You might not be worried about this match but I am. I've noticed you favoring that knee lately. I don't want you to get hurt."

Punk rolled his eyes. "Now you sound like this guy from the panel at Austin Comic Con yesterday."

John raised his brows in question.

"Guy came up to the mic told me how much he loves to watch me wrestle but every time I'm in the ring he's worried that I'll seriously injure myself."

"That's an odd thing to say."

Punk laughed. "I don't think it came out the way he meant it to. But shit, when aren't we wrestling hurt? I'll keep it taped and I'll be alright."

John looked over at Ryback, watching him pile his plate high with meat. "Just be careful with that ham-handed beast. Call the spots you want and if he calls for something you don't want to do, fuck him."

Punk raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like something the goody-two-shoes face of the company would say."

John laughed. "Maybe I'm getting ready for that heel turn everybody's asking for."

Punk snorted. "I'm more likely to have all my tattoos lasered off than you are to turn heel."

* * *

The main event was well underway. John was in the gorilla watching the end of Punk's Hell in a Cell match. Punk had escaped the cage after his shady win thanks to Maddox, but Ryback had come after him and stopped him from leaving. Ryback went to fling Punk into the cage wall but Punk leaped and scrambled up the side. Ryback went up the cage too, catching Punk and pulling him to the center of the cage roof. John's heart was in his throat as Ryback lifted him up for Shell Shock. He hated to be like that guy from Comic Con, but he was worried for this spot. Everybody knew that Mick's fall through the roof of the cell all those years ago hadn't been planned in his match with the Undertaker. The top had given way under the force of the slam and even Taker had thought Mick was dead. He thought he was going to be sick watching as Ryback threw himself to his back, Punk pinned underneath him. The cage roof swayed and dipped under their weight. But it held.

John blew out a long breath of relief and waited for Punk to make his way backstage. He'd get him to the trainer to get checked out, then take him back to the hotel to take care of him the way he wanted.

* * *

Punk moaned and John shushed him. They were backstage at Saturday's house show, hidden in a dark corner behind some empty equipment trunks. "Quiet," he whispered. "Unless you want everyone in the company to know I get to fuck the Best in the World." John laughed softly. "Hmmm… Actually, I think they already know that."

Punk gasped. "I don't care if they do."

John bit Punk's ear. "Well then you'd better be quiet unless you want them to come back here and see you with my collar around your throat."

Scheduling had kept them apart after RAW this week, which meant Punk hadn't been able to wear his collar for several days. They'd arrived at the arena separately and were immediately busy with the usual number of pre-show tasks. But every time John looked at Punk he was playing his fingers along his neck, a teasing glint in his eye. John had finally dragged him off to the back, the red leather collar hidden in his pocket. And now here they were.

John leaned against the crate behind him, his arms wrapped tight around his sub, his cock buried deep in his ass. He rubbed his hands over the soft skin of Punk's belly and up to his chest, a light sheen of sweat making his palms glide smoothly. John kissed his lover's neck. He loved touching Punk. He pushed into him hard, making Punk gasp again before he answered him.

"I don't care. I don't fucking care. Everyone can know I wear your collar, Sir. I love it. I love you."

John groaned with pleasure at how accepting Punk was of their relationship. They'd both come so far. He kept stroking into Punk, whispering in his ear again. "You don't care? You love my collar that much?"

"Yes."

"You love doing what I tell you to do?"

"Yes, fuck yes."

John moved his arms from their tight embrace around his lover, settling his hands on Punk's hips.

"Bend over for me."

Punk complied immediately, bracing his hands on the short trunk in front of them. "Spread your legs, baby." Again Punk obeyed, following his orders easily, smoothly. A perfect submissive. John stroked his fingers over the soft curve of Punk's waist, making him shiver.

"I would never share you with anyone, Phil." John gripped Punk's hips tight and pushed into him hard. "But the thought of everyone knowing the things I get to do to you..." John sucked in a harsh breath at the streak of smug possessiveness that ran through him. "I know they all wish they could have you like I do." He started pushing into him faster. "But none of them will ever know what it feels like to be inside you." John kept slamming into him. "What it feels like to have this luscious heat squeezing my cock so damn tight."

Punk threw back his head with a deep moan. John reached up and wrapped his fingers around Punk's collar, pulling his head back even further. "I want you to stroke your cock for me, baby." John saw Punk's arm move off the trunk and knew he'd gripped himself when another moan slipped from his throat. "Make sure you stay at the same pace as me, Phil. And don't you dare come before I give you permission. Do you understand?" Punk nodded, but when John tugged sharply at his collar he answered correctly.

"Yes, Sir."

John maintained his swift pace, pumping deep into his sub and watching his arm moving back and forth as he worked himself. Gradually he slowed down, thrusting soft and easy. Punk made a slight sound of protest but he slowed too, staying with him like ordered. John enjoyed the slow, sweet friction of Punk's channel sliding along his shaft for a few moments, before slowly increasing his pace again. He kept a close eye on Punk, making sure he didn't disobey him. Punk didn't, but he gasped out a question.

"I need to move, Sir. May I please move?"

John was more than happy to grant that request, and when he did Punk started moving with him, coming back when he went forward so that their bodies came together in a perfect meeting of slick, heated skin, John reaching far inside his lover each time. The head of his cock brushed that smooth spot inside Punk with every thrust, making him tense and tremble as he pushed back against him. Punk moaned again but John didn't quiet him. He just loved hearing those sweet sounds from his sub too much.

John considered teasing Punk and slowing down again, but he knew they needed to get back up front soon. Besides, he could see that Punk was very close. He was shaking, his movements no longer smooth. And the muscles in Punk's arm were tight, letting him know he was straining not to disobey his order. John reached down and cupped the hot heavy weight of his sub's balls, rolling them in his hand as he stroked into him even harder. He squeezed the taut flesh and Punk gasped sharply.

"Master, please! I need to come."

John loved hearing Punk call him that. It was something that for a long time he'd thought he'd never get to hear. He pulled Punk up straight again, holding him tight against his chest. "Kiss me." Punk whipped his head around and their lips met in a wild hot kiss, their tongues sliding and curling around each other. John wrapped his hand around Punk's, making him cry out as he guided him to squeeze his cock tighter and pump faster. Punk writhed in his arms, his ass and back sliding and rubbing against him as John worked him higher and closer to his release. Punk moaned again, whispering _please_ into his mouth. Finally, John gave Punk the command to come, his voice low and thick with arousal. With another cry Punk's hips surged forward and he was coming in both their hands.

John's breath caught in his throat when Punk's ass started squeezing his cock so tight. He sucked Punk's lip into his mouth hard. He let that heat and friction and that amazing feeling that he was fucking _his_ lover, _his_ sub, the man that truly belonged to him, bring his own orgasm up his shaft in a hot rush of pleasure. John bit Punk's shoulder to muffle his own shout as he thrust deep and exploded inside his lover, marking him once more as his.

**XX**

John kneeled down in front of Punk. He ran his hands up the back of those sleek thighs until his fingers skimmed over the wetness he'd left there. He looked up at Punk. "I came inside you, Phil. Do you want me to clean you up?"

Punk swallowed hard and shook his head no.

"You wanted to walk around in front of everyone with me inside you, right?" Punk nodded with his eyes wide and John smiled. He picked up the black trunks that had been thrown on the ground, gesturing for Punk to raise his leg. His lover braced a hand on his shoulder before raising one foot, then the other so that John could smooth the trunks up his legs, settling them in place low on his hips. John rose back to his feet, his palm rubbing back and forth over the small of Punk's back.

"Is that what you wanted?"

Punk sucked his lip ring. "Yes, Sir."

John groaned and kissed him, backing him up against the crate. He slipped his fingers in the tight trunks, dipping down until he lightly caressed Punk's entrance. "You know I'll always give you what you want." He paused and grinned. "As long as you've earned it." He kissed him again, but this time Punk moaned in protest as he started to take off his collar. Suddenly, he pulled away before John could open the clasp. John was surprised and started to say something but Punk shushed him this time.

"Did you hear that?" he said looking off to the side with a frown on his forehead.

John went still, listening himself but he didn't hear anything. He shrugged. "No, nothing." The frown was still on Punk's face so John kissed it away before he took off his collar. "Don't worry about it. If it was somebody they must have taken off as soon as they heard us."

Punk finally relaxed. "You're probably right." His green eyes watched as John put his collar back in his pocket. John wondered if he even knew he had a slight pout on his mouth. Punk really did love belonging to him and that made John happier than he'd ever been in his life. After a moment Punk bounced on his toes and rolled his wrists. The crackling energy of CM Punk was in full effect. He grinned, the low light catching on his lip ring.

"Let's go put on a show."

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N**: A short little chapter to get us started. I would love to say I'll be updating every week, but derby season is still going and I'll be back in the classroom shortly. So I'll try to shoot for every two weeks. Please don't shoot _me_ if that doesn't happen. =)

Also, as I mentioned in SC&L I was at Austin Comic Con last year so of course I had to bring it up in the story. A guy really did say that to Punk, here's the link to it if you want to watch. Go to 11:10 for the start of the injury question and 12:40 for that specific comment and Punk's response.  watch?v=dSVvBYRFlL0

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hi y'all! Thank you for joining me in part 2 of this story. I really appreciate all your reviews showing your enthusiasm for the continuation. Repeat song The Police, _Every Breath You Take_. Enjoy!

* * *

Punk walked backstage headed for catering. They were overseas for their UK tour. He always enjoyed these trips. It was nice to experience the different crowd atmosphere and reactions they got whenever they crossed the water. Tonight was their last house show before RAW in Birmingham the next day.

His phone buzzed just when he entered the large room set up for catering. He reached into the pocket of the baggy shorts he wore over his ring gear to pull out his phone. He didn't recognize the number that flashed on his screen but he checked the text anyway while he waited in line.

_You're disgusting. _

His eyebrows shot up. He looked at the number again but he still didn't recognize it. He figured whoever sent the text had the wrong number so he put his phone away. He'd just settled down with his food when his phone went off again.

_You pretend to be a big man for the cameras but I know what you really are. _

Now Punk thought someone was fucking with him. Or maybe some idiot fan had somehow gotten his phone number. He put his fork down so he could shoot off a response.

_Who is this? Cabana is this you? Did you get a new phone number you asshole? _

_Not Cabana. But I see you're wearing your red kick pads. Does that mean you'll be wearing your pretty little collar to match down to the ring tonight? _

All the blood drained from his face. He knew John wouldn't freak him out like this so these texts could mean only one of two things. Either Cody was being an asshole and playing a joke on him or someone knew about his D/s relationship with John. He typed one word and hit send.

_Cody? _

_I wish you could see me laugh. No it's not Cody, but that's interesting that you thought so. You'll find out who this is soon enough. And don't even think about blocking this number. You won't like what happens if you do. _

Punk slowly put his phone down. He pushed his plate away, his appetite totally gone. Someone knew that John was his Dom. And it had to be someone on the roster since they had his number and knew what he was wearing right now. He looked around the catering room, trying to see if there was anyone there who looked suspicious. AJ sat with Vickie and Maddox. Brad had his phone out but he turned it to show the two women. They all burst out laughing at whatever it was he showed them. Brad shook his head and Punk caught something about Bleacher Report. Darren and Titus were there with Sin Cara and Rey looking intense as they went over their match. He noticed Ryback was sitting off by himself. But he was shoving a giant sandwich into his mouth and his fingers looked too greasy to have handled a phone with any dexterity.

Punk got up and left catering in a rush. He'd been right the other night. He _had_ heard someone when he and John had snuck off to the back. And now they were sending him taunting text messages. He felt a little sick as he headed for the locker room. The best he could hope for was that whoever it was only wanted to prank him and didn't have any malicious intent.

Later that night everyone was joking around backstage as they tried to one-up each other in their matches. Punk stood with John, they both had awhile before they had to go out. John held his X pendant, rubbing his thumb across it. He traced a finger along his neck where the letters for CENA would be if he were wearing his collar. Punk stepped back from John, carefully pushing his hands away from his neck. "Don't."

John didn't get mad, which was a testament to how much he'd changed, but he did look concerned. "What's wrong?"

Punk's eyes darted around trying to see if anyone was paying them any special attention. "Maybe we shouldn't be so open backstage." The frown deepened on John's brow so he gave him a quick kiss so he wouldn't ask him any more questions. He couldn't outright lie to his Dom but he didn't want him to know about the strange texts he'd received earlier until he had a little more information himself. John didn't look convinced so he made a joke. "Sorry. I don't think that dark English beer from lunch is sitting well with me," he said as he rubbed his stomach with a grimace.

John laughed. "If you had any beer at lunch, I'll eat my hat."

Punk snorted. "That's hardly a loss. You've got fifty bazillion more."

John laughed again and Punk inwardly sighed with relief that he'd managed to distract him. But he decided to take off just in case that person was watching them, he didn't want to give them any more ammunition. He forced a smile. "I've gotta take care of some stuff before my match. I'll see you on the bus back to the hotel, okay?" A look of concern shone in John's blue eyes, but thankfully he let him go.

* * *

Punk lay in bed in the dark and quiet hotel room. He was exhausted but wired. The jet lag and time difference had totally screwed up his already shitty sleep pattern. Plus, he couldn't get those texts out of his head. He was convinced now that whoever sent them wasn't just playing a joke. And he was on edge waiting to find out what they had planned. He turned on to his other side and heard John sigh next to him. Those strong arms came around him in the dark pulling him close to his broad chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep."

John breathed a soft laugh. "I can see that. What's keeping you up?"

Punk hesitated for a second before he answered John. When he did it wasn't an outright lie. He had thought about this earlier. "I'm just worried about work. I've got to have that surgery on my knee, but I don't want to fuck up storylines and what they've got planned for me and Rock at the Rumble."

John kissed the back of his neck. "Don't worry about that. That's the writers' job to come up with something when we can't perform."

Now it was Punk's turn to laugh. "Really? You're telling me not to worry about work? The man who wrestled for months with bone shards pin-balling around his elbow?"

John squeezed him tight. "Good point. Just listen to your body and be honest with yourself. The company will figure things out if they need to."

Punk sighed "Alright."

John smoothed a hand down his thigh. "You're still so tense."

Punk didn't answer. John stroked his hand back up his thigh, teasingly brushing along his hardening shaft.

"Do you want me to take care of you, baby?"

Punk had to clear his throat before he could answer. He was already aroused, his body so in tune with his Dom's. And against his ass he could feel John's shaft hardening just as swiftly as his own. "Yes. Please take care of me, Sir."

John gripped his cock firmly, pumping him slow and steady. He breathed a whisper into his ear. "You can move however you want, Phil."

Punk started pumping his hips to match the fist moving on him. He gasped as John sucked a hard kiss onto his neck. He pushed his hips back against the hardness he felt behind him. "Sir?"

John knew immediately what he was asking him. "No not tonight. I think I want to wait until I get you back to my house." He kissed the back of his neck again. "When you're well-rested for what I want to do to you."

Punk moaned at the thought. Yeah, he'd love to feel his Dom buried deep inside him right now, but he knew that he would love the way John played with his body when they really had time to enjoy themselves. But that was a few days away so right now he let the feeling of John stroking him to orgasm wash over him.

John squeezed and pumped him while grinding his cock against his ass. He started panting as John worked his fist on his slick cock faster and faster. He was right at the edge when John roughly turned him in his arms so that they were facing each other. His mouth slammed onto his, controlling his lips and tongue in a deep kiss. Punk relaxed under the dominance of John's kiss, all his worry about the mysterious texts going out of his head. He wrapped an arm and a leg around John's big body, wanting to be as close to him as he could get.

Punk reached for John's shaft, just barely touching him, waiting for permission. John broke away from their kiss long enough to tell him, "Go ahead." He gripped John's thick cock, stroking him swiftly while John continued to pump him. Their bodies moved together, hips thrusting and circling into each other's fists, rubbing their shafts together. John groaned in that deep low tone that always sent shivers down Punk's spine.

"I'm coming baby, come with me."

Punk answered with a whispered _yes_, sucking at his Dom's full bottom lip as he let himself go. His belly tightened and his orgasm rushed up his pulsing shaft, spilling into his lover's pumping fist just as he felt the hot release of his Dom into his own hand. They both kept pumping and stroking until they finally came to a shuddering spent halt. John kissed him softly one last time.

Punk lay there breathing hard as John cleaned them up with the top sheet and then tossed it to the floor. He tugged the blanket up over them and pulled Punk back into his arms.

"Is that better?"

Punk blew out a long breath and snuggled back against his Dom. "Yeah."

John hugged him to his chest. "Good. Now go to sleep."

Punk yawned. "We're really going to have to talk about you and your continued gimmick infringement."

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N:** So what do you think? Who's sending off those texts to Punk? And should he have told John right away?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hola! Sorry about the hiatus there. Had some big life changes going on that took a lot of my attention. For this update I had two repeat songs. Yes two! I'm amazed I didn't get completely sidetracked every time it switched. First song was _The Silk Road_ from the Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon soundtrack. I wanted something light and with an East Asian influence. The other was _Eptesicus_ from the Batman Begins soundtrack. We all know Punk is Batman and I sort of have a musical crush on Hans Zimmer. Enjoy!

* * *

John looked over at Punk sitting next to him in the passenger seat with his eyes closed. His love looked tired. John was glad that not only was their European tour over, but that he'd persuaded Punk to come home with him for a few days. They had a small break before that weekend's house shows. John intended to make sure Punk got plenty of rest. He snuck another look at Punk. Even though the car was warm he was still wearing the hoodie that had allowed him to sneak out of the airport undetected. John had let the fans who always knew when he'd be coming home mob him for photos and autographs while Punk walked undetected to his car in the parking lot. John was surprised no one had made him, he was almost as recognizable with a hoodie as he was without. Of course, for all John knew someone had spotted him, but Punk had just snarled and scared them off.

"I can feel you looking at me." Punk opened his eyes and turned to look at him. "Plotting on what you're gonna do to me once you've got me at your place?"

John grinned. "Yep. I'm gonna take you straight to my room and strip you naked. Then I'll take you into the shower." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Under the hot water I'll run my hands all over your beautiful body to soap you up. I love watching the colors of your tattoos disappear and then reappear under the bubbles. And once you're all clean I'll dry every part of that soft skin of yours." He stopped, not saying anything until Punk finally prompted him.

"Then what?"

"Then I'll take you to my bed … and tuck you in so you can get some sleep."

Punk's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

John nodded. "Yes. You look worn out. And not in that sexy, militant-yet-weary-leader, weight of the world look you normally have going for you."

"So you brought me here to take a nap," he asked with a grin tugging at his lips.

"That's right. If I'd let you go home you'd be off doing interviews, stage diving at concerts, and who knows what else. You need to rest." He squeezed Punk's denim clad knee. "Besides, I plan to play once you wake up." He stroked his hand up his thigh. "Tell me Punk, have you ever heard of Shibari?"

* * *

Punk had to admit that he did feel better. John had been true to his word. They'd taken a relaxing shower as soon as they settled in and when they were done he'd indeed put Punk to bed. But as John went to leave the room he'd called out to his Dom, asking him to stay. John had shed the clothes he'd just put on and climbed into bed with him. He hadn't thought he'd be able to fall asleep so early in the evening, but wrapped up in John's arms, held close against the heat of his chest, he'd eventually drifted off. Crazily enough he'd slept through the night.

Now it was the next afternoon. That morning they'd indulged in a calorie bomb of a breakfast, eating donuts covered in everything from chocolate icing, to cinnamon glaze, to powdered sugar. Afterwards, laughing almost guiltily they'd worked out in John's gym. They'd taken another shower together, then separated to get caught up on things. John was in his study on the computer. Punk was in the living room, sitting cross legged in a chair while he checked his voicemails and texts. They were all from friends or work. He scrolled through his texts one more time, but he had nothing from that number he hadn't recognized. He started to relax even more. Maybe it had just been a prank and whoever had sent those texts was done fucking with him. It was a tasteless joke, and he still felt sick that someone had seen him and John together. But that was better than dreading any further messages or whatever else that person might do.

He looked up and smiled as John came into the room. John braced his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned down, caging him in. He gave him a quick kiss.

"You look much better. Very well rested."

Punk reached up to run his fingers over John's chest. "It was the donuts, I just needed some sugar."

John grinned at him. "All you needed was some sugar? Why didn't you say so?" He leaned in close, his blue eyes sparkling, clearly ready to kiss him again.

Punk laughed. "You are so damn corny." But he allowed the kiss John gave him. Punk closed his eyes and parted his lips, allowing John inside. John kissed him softly, playfully, his tongue darting against his. Another smile curved his lips and he opened his eyes as John pulled back. "So… I googled Shibari."

One blonde brow went up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. It looks … interesting."

"Really."

"I'm uh… I'm game to try it. If that's what you want, Sir."

John smiled slow and wicked. "Oh, we're definitely going to try it. And I think you'll like it. The way the rope feels against your skin." John brushed his fingers across his chest then down to grasp his wrist. "The feeling of helplessness, knowing I'm in control of you. And we both already know how much you like being restrained."

Punk's lips parted, his breath coming fast and shallow. John smiled again and pulled him out of the chair to kiss him. The second their lips touched, it was obvious that now John was in full Dom mode. He took control of the kiss, mastering his lips and tongue in that way that made him want to cling to John and never let go. When John kissed him like that, whatever it was inside him that felt the need to submit rose up and had him melting against his Dom. John pressed his erection against him and he moaned softly, pressing back. He was ready. Ready for whatever John had planned for them tonight.

* * *

They were in the playroom. Late afternoon sunshine lit the room with a warm glow. Punk kneeled on a padded leather mat. He was already feeling peaceful and languorous. John had rubbed every inch of him down with oil, massaging it into his skin and kneading his muscles.

He looked over at John across the room. He could tell that this scene between them would be different just from John's attire. John wasn't normally one to wear any sort of fetish clothes. But today he'd put on a pair of black drawstring pants. The material was silky and loose but still managed to mold to the hard muscles of his thighs and the firm curve of his ass. He quickly lowered his head as John turned and approached him.

John stopped just in front of him. He held in his hands a long skien of rope that was folded and doubled back on itself several times. It appeared to be nylon and Punk noted that it was the same dark red as his collar. He held the rope towards him.

"Go ahead, baby. Touch the rope that will restrain you today."

Punk reached for the rope in John's hands, brushing his fingers over it. The rope felt strong yet supple, softer than any other rope he'd ever touched.

John continued to study him, watching him closely. "Do you want to be bound for me, Phil?"

Punk answered without any hesitation. "Yes, Sir." Without being asked and before he even knew what he was doing he leaned forward and kissed the rope. John smiled softly, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. Punk closed his eyes and turned his face into John's palm. This thing between them was so good. He couldn't help but wish that they'd come together before they had, but he had to admit that he probably hadn't been ready for this type of relationship with John before now.

John stepped away, circling around behind him. He kneeled at his back, so his voice was very close as he ordered, "Hands behind your back." Punk obeyed immediately, crossing his arms at the wrist. He stayed like that, waiting patiently. A shiver went through him as John pressed a kiss to his neck. Then he felt the first touch of the rope on his skin. John wrapped the rope around his chest securing his arms to his sides. The nylon lay over his nipples rubbing them, making him hard there. John doubled the nylon around to his front once more. He gave a quick tug and Punk gasped. Something … something about the feeling of that rope biting into his skin had lit a spark in his chest. He'd already been semi-erect just from knowing John was about to play with him. Now blood rushed into his cock, stiffening his shaft.

John looped the rope around to his back again and down to his wrists. Punk bit his lip, stifling a groan as the material lightly abraded his sensitive nipples. When his wrists were bound, he tugged at the restraint out of reflex. He couldn't get free. Not that he wanted to. But knowing that he was at John's mercy, under his control caused a now familiar mix of emotions to spread through him. Peace and excitement. Love and passion. The need to submit and the urge to rebel. All of it swirled through him. It raced through his blood and danced just underneath his skin, rising up and making him light headed. John shifted positions and the silky material of those pants brushed against his skin. Punk closed his eyes, concentrating on all the different sensations against his skin. He appreciated the thick leather cushioning his knees. He felt John's body heat, which had come to give him both a sense of comfort and arousal over their time together. John's silky pants tickled the skin on his calves. And he loved the harsh skeins of nylon rubbing in so many different spots along his torso. The rope slid over his skin roughly, yet seemed to tantalize him softly. And he gave himself up to all of it. All of it lead to that delicious loss of control that let him relax and just float, knowing that John would keep him anchored.

John was aware of what Punk was feeling. He could feel it in the way his sub relaxed into his touch, sinking down onto his heels, and accepting his bindings. He could hear it in Punk's quick yet soft breathing. John wrapped the red rope around Punk's wrists, looping it up several times until he was bound from wrists to the middle of his forearms. He heard Punk sigh and knew his lover was enjoying this. He brushed a kiss on Punk's shoulder, licking his skin, watching as he trembled at his touch. John too enjoyed the touch of the rope. He liked the roughness of it as it abraded his palms. And of course the control over his lover, having Punk give himself to him like this willingly had him hard and throbbing in his loose pants.

John let the rope go for a second. He slid his hands over Punk's hips and down to cup the smooth, round curves of his ass. He pushed slightly and Punk rose up off his heels. John loved how connected to him his sub was, how he knew immediately what he wanted. Gathering the rope once more, he wrapped it around his waist, then again at his hips. Punk moaned as he gave the rope a tug to make sure it was tight enough. He crossed the rope through his legs, lifting the heavy weight of his sack so that the rope would stimulate that sensitive area by pressing his balls up and rubbing against them. John let his fingers play over Punk's straining shaft. He circled his thumb over his cock head, and groaned as he felt how wet he was there. Punk cried out as John pumped him once. He brought his slick thumb up to his lover's mouth, pressing it in to his tongue. Punk moaned and sucked the digit clean.

He brought the rope back around behind Punk. He slipped his fingers between Punk's cheeks, dipping one into his entrance before he slid the rope between them. He set it so that the nylon teased against his sensitive hole, then tugged the rope underneath the curve of his cheeks, lifting them up and slightly spreading him open. He gave another tug on the rope. Punk gasped, thrusting his hips forward, then gasping again as the nylon rubbed against all the tender places where John had set the rope.

Punk called out to him. "Sir…"

John dropped the rope and went to Punk's front. "Are you okay, baby?"

Punk slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded. "Yes, Sir. I feel … I feel light."

John brushed a thumb over that damp lip then pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Light?"

Punk nodded again. "Yes. Light and loose, but I know I'm bound. Bound to you."

John looked at his sub, at his heavy lidded eyes and flushed face. His sub was rope drunk. A rush of euphoria went through him making his heart race. He was still in awe at his sub's deep submission and the way he let go so freely whenever they played. "You are bound to me, bound for me, Phil. And it makes me happy to see how much you enjoy it." He leaned forward and kissed his sub, slowly, yet deep and full of passion. He slid his hands over Punk's body, his palms bumping over the rope, until he reached his ass. Punk wiggled slightly, pressing his cock to his as John squeezed his cheeks. The feel of that taut flesh in his hands had his own stiff cock throbbing even more, desperate to get inside his lover. He hauled Punk up against him, circling those narrow hips against him so that their cocks rubbed together. Punk groaned into his mouth and John pressed them together hard once last time before he released him.

He stayed in front of Punk as he finished his bindings. This was the part he'd most been looking forward to. He looped the rope over Punk's thighs, leaving thick spaces between each circle. As he worked, he watched the way the flesh of those pretty thighs overflowed their constraints. It was beautiful, and exactly what he'd pictured. He knotted the rope off just above each knee and looked at Punk admiring both his lover and his rope art. John traced his fingers over his warm skin, touching him everywhere, but especially on his thighs. He returned to that area again and again until finally he leaned forward and kissed between the ropes softly. John sucked the skin into his mouth, tasting the oil he'd rubbed his sub down with, and beneath that the wonderful taste that was Punk. He licked up to the next section, dipping his tongue underneath the rope as much as he could. He kissed and sucked there too, repeating the gestures until he'd worshipped each of the four sections on Punk's legs with his mouth.

Looking up he saw Punk with his eyes closed, his lips parted, body almost swaying. He gripped Punk's thigh hard, making his flesh swell even further around the pressure of his fingers.

Punk gasped. "_John_."

John didn't reprimand his sub for the use of his name. He knew Punk was too deep into what he was feeling to follow all protocols. Besides, he liked hearing his name on his sub's lips when he was like this. He kissed his way up his lover's body, stopping when his lips rested against Punk's. Then he answered him. "Yes, baby?"

"I can't touch you. But I need to serve you, please?"

John pulled back and looked into Punk's hazy green eyes. "My beautiful sub. I'll give you anything you want when you're like this."

He stood in front of Punk, looked down at his sub bound and kneeling at his feet. He looked oddly vulnerable, with his hair shorn close to his scalp and the red rope crossing and circling his body from his torso and down his thighs. Punk looked up at him and sucked his lip ring into his mouth. John untied the drawstring to his pants, letting them drop to the floor to be kicked aside. He palmed his shaft, holding it out for Punk, who leaned forward and licked the tip tentatively. John cupped the back of Punk's head, pressing him forward, giving him permission. Punk sucked him into his mouth fully, sliding his lips up and down his shaft. John's belly tightened and he sucked in a harsh breath as Punk tongued the underside of his cock. He kept his hand at the back of Punk's head, guiding him since he didn't have the use of his hands. His sub moaned and started sucking him faster. John enjoyed it for a few moments before his body demanded he move. He thrust his hips forward, pushing his cock deep into Punk's mouth, taking control of the pace. Punk opened his lips wider, letting him fuck his mouth. His lips were swollen, the silver lip ring glinting in the orange light of the setting sun. Finally he had to stop. His orgasm was teasingly close, and he didn't want to come like this.

He pulled Punk off his cock, a surge of lust running through him when his lover licked his lips like he wanted more. He'd purposely tied Punk so that he would still be able to stand and walk. Now he helped Punk to stand, watching as his bindings slid into minute changes of position. He walked Punk over to the big bed in the room, caressing his back as they went. When they reached it he turned Punk to him and kissed him briefly, sucking his tongue into his mouth, tasting the flavor of his sex. He pulled away and Punk waited there, his chest heaving with his panting breaths, the ropes keeping him bound as John retrieved lube from the table next to the bed.

John lay down, and covered his cock with the lube. Punk mounted him, the strength in that limber body allowing him to do so with very little help from him even bound as he was. Once Punk was straddling him, he tugged the section of rope between his ass slightly to the side. Then he pulled him down onto his cock. He was so deliciously tight, especially since John hadn't prepared him first, that he had to grit his teeth not to come immediately. Punk was moaning softly, desperate little pants of breaths escaping from between his lips. John knew his sub was straining not to rush his pace. John slowly kept easing into him until finally he was deep inside his sub's ass. Punk wiggled his hips, grinding against him. John squeezed his ass and gave him a command. "Ride me."

Punk nodded and rose up. John groaned at the feel of those tight walls sliding up his cock. Punk clenched around him when he reached his cock head and he choked out a curse. "Fuck, baby. That's good."

Punk smiled. "I only want to make you feel good, Sir." He dropped down onto him hard, then rose up and squeezed him once more. "I love to give you pleasure."

John yanked Punk down into a fierce kiss, mastering his tongue with his own before he pushed him back up. He relaxed and let Punk ride him, running his hands over the smooth flesh still constrained by the rope. He watched Punk, thinking he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His body gleamed slick with oil and sweat, the red nylon a warm complement to the golden tan of his skin. His cock stood out proudly, both from the way John had him bound and from being erect. And those thighs. John licked his lips and squeezed him there again. Punk was the perfect picture of erotic beauty with his arms tied behind his back and his legs spread over his lap, fucking himself onto his cock.

His shaft was rigid as steel as Punk worked his body up and down on him. The clasp of his lover's clenching channel was so snug and hot, that his balls were already drawn up hard. And the rope rubbed against them both adding another level of stimulation. John grasped Punk's stiff cock in a firm grip and started to stroke. Punk moved faster and John pumped faster until they were breathing hard and working each other furiously. John thrust his hips up quick and hard, their bodies slapping together as Punk bounced on his cock.

John's orgasm was rising up hot and intense, his balls aching, until with a long groan he released deep into the tight ass of his sub. He forced his eyes to stay open. Watching Punk only enhanced his climax and he shuddered, groaning again. He gripped Punk's hips firmly, slamming his cock into his lover over and over. "Fuck, I love coming inside you, Phil." It felt like his whole body was exploding while Punk kept riding him, milking him for everything he had. His cock was sensitive now, but he didn't stop his lover. He let him keep going, knowing he was getting close to his own climax.

"I want to see you come for me baby. You look so fucking good all tied up for your Master." John squeezed Punk's cock tighter, pumping him even faster. "Now come for me, come _on_ me, Phil." He reached for the section of rope that was under Punk's sack with his other hand and gave it a sharp tug.

Punk cried out and threw back his head, his stomach sucked in tight, and his body arching forward. His release fountained out of him in a pearly stream, making John's fingers slick and landing on his stomach in a hot splash. Punk thrust his hips forward into John's fist, so he took that as his cue to keep stroking him. Then with a deep sigh, his body folded and he collapsed onto John.

John grasped his chin and tugged him into a kiss. Punk whimpered when John thrust up lightly, but he answered by grinding his ass down against him. They kept moving, stealing all the pleasure they could from the last spine tingling aftershocks of their orgasms as they kissed.

* * *

Punk felt amazing. He and John lay back in bed sorta watching TV, kinda making out, but mostly just lying there touching each other. He felt sleepy and sated and clear headed. Every time he moved the smooth sheets rubbed against a sensitive patch of skin burned by John's rope. He purposely moved often. And John, he was on his own sort of high. Again and again he swept his hands down Punk's body, lingering over the marks left on his skin. And he kept nuzzling his face into his neck, kissing him, every so often giving him a smile or laughing softly as he told Punk he loved him. John had been right to have him come home with him. They needed this. Punk lazily reached for his phone as the text message indicator went off. He unlocked it and thumbed to his text screen.

_You should be back in the States by now. Guess that means you're busy being lead around on a leash like a fucking dog or whatever it is you sick fucks like to do. You'll have to tell me how that works this weekend. See you soon. _

Punk immediately felt that queasy feeling deep in his gut. His nerves shot tight, but he fought to keep his muscles from tensing. He didn't want John to know something was going on. Punk hurriedly tapped back to his home screen just in case John looked over his shoulder at his phone. He sucked in a shaky breath.

Peace shattered.

* * *

**A/N:** Awww, pooey! Just when John got Punk all relaxed. Tune in next Monday to find out who the mystery texter is. Feel free to leave your guesses in your review. I might be so inclined to write a onesie for the winner. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Damnit, didn't get this out on Monday. But! I got my grass cut and my Halloween decorations up so I think we all won. Repeat song: Limp Bizkit, _Break Stuff. _Thanks for all your guesses and reviews. Now to find out…

* * *

Punk was jumpy the moment he walked into the arena. He hadn't gotten any other messages since the one he'd gotten when he and John were in bed, but that didn't matter. The last one he'd received had been enough to keep him on edge. Whoever it was said they'd be revealing themselves this weekend. At last night's show he'd been tense, just waiting for someone to come up to him and say it was them. But no one had.

Now he was pissed. Pissed that this asshole had spied on him, was holding it over him and wouldn't fucking show themselves. He was in the worst fucking mood, and now that he wasn't around John he wasn't hiding it. That was something else that pissed him off. He didn't like keeping this from John. But he didn't want to have him as stressed out and frantic as he was. There was no point, at least not until he knew what the texter wanted. Besides, for whatever reason this person had chosen him to send the text to, not John. Which made the problem his. And John might be his lover, his Dom, but he could take care of his own damn problems.

Still, he felt wrong for not coming clean. He hadn't verbally lied, but he'd pretended everything was okay from the moment he'd received that last text. John had just been in such a good mood and wanted to see him relaxed. He didn't want to bring him down from that. It had been hard to do and he hadn't liked doing it. That was just the decision he'd made and he'd stick by it until he knew what the fuck was going on.

Punk slammed into the locker room. The door banged so hard that the few people who were there all jumped. Kidd, Bray Wyatt, Sheamus, a few local wrestlers. He eyed them all, but none of them gave him a nefarious leer. Kidd sort of smiled at him. Punk gave him a small head nod to acknowledge him but didn't smile back. John had told him about the talk they'd had, but that didn't mean he was ready to forgive the little shit for all the trouble he'd caused. He had his reputation as a grudge holder for a reason.

There were still a good number of open locker cubbies so he chose one off in the corner by himself. He sat his phone on the bench in front of him and dressed in his ring gear in silence. No one approached him. At first. He'd just finished pulling on his kick pad covers when Sheamus came over.

"Hey, Punk. What's up?"

Punk straightened slowly and looked at Sheamus. "Nothing. Why? You got something to say to me?"

Sheamus looked taken aback at his aggression. He held his hands up and shook his head. "Take it easy, fella. Just noticed you were looking a bit troubled. Thought I'd check on ya."

Punk eyed Sheamus again. He didn't _look_ like he was hiding anything . Damnit, this was driving him crazy not knowing who it was! He raised his arms up to pull his shirt back on and heard Sheamus make a surprised noise. He poked his head out the neck hole. "What?"

Sheamus was looking at his chest. "That burn there, guess the ropes really got ya."

Punk looked down at his chest and saw what Sheamus was referring to. It was one of his marks from John's ropes, not the ring ropes. But that was none of Sheamus's business. He pulled his shirt all the way down and stepped back into his shorts. "Looks like it." Punk picked up his phone. "Thanks, Sheam-O but I'm alright. Just got a lot on my mind. I'll see you later."

Punk left the locker room even more anxious than when he'd walked in. _Who the fuck was this asshole and when was he going to show his face?_

* * *

Punk swung by the catering room after his match for a bottle of water. Still nothing. He didn't think he could go through another day of waiting to be approached by this sicko. He grabbed one of the last bottles of water from the tub and was just about to leave the room when he heard a raspy curse. He turned and saw Ryback over in the corner. He'd just dropped his cell. Ryback saw him looking and then dived for his phone. A flash of anger went through him and before he knew it he was across the room and shouting in Ryback's face. "Show me your fucking phone!"

Ryback, his brow beetled in confused anger, refused. "I don't have to show you anything, Punk."

But Punk was sick of playing this game. If it was Ryback, then he wanted to know right now. He snatched the phone out of Ryback's sweaty hand. Ryback blinked as if he didn't quite realize what had happened. Then he hunched his shoulders, looking like he was ready to charge. Punk held his forearms up and slightly raised his knee. "Take one step and I'll kick your fucking head off."

He quickly moved through Ryback's phone scanning through all his text messages. None of them were the creepy ones that had been sent to his phone. He looked at the last text that had been sent. A message to someone with the initials BK.

_I'll see you soon Boo-Boo_.

Punk raised a brow in disbelief. "Boo-Boo? Really?"

Ryback blushed so hard even his bald head turned red. "Shut up, Punk. And give me my damn phone back."

Punk dropped his guard and tossed the phone over. "Your phone sucks. It's time for an upgrade."

* * *

Punk was boiling hot with anger, his stomach clenched so tight it was sore. Another fucking house show over and he still didn't know who'd spied on him and John. He slung his backpack over his shoulders, heading out of the arena, ignoring everybody who said bye to him. Ryder looked hurt he didn't acknowledge his, "See ya later, bro!" but he didn't give a shit. He saw Dean Ambrose leaning against the wall but he didn't stop. Normally he'd go over Dean's matches with him but he wasn't in the mood tonight. He returned Dean's nod with a short one of his on and kept walking. But then Ambrose called out to him.

"You know, Punk, I don't know what surprised me more, that 3-D GI Joe is a Dom or that you're a submissive."

Punk abruptly stopped. Turned around slowly. "What did you say?"

Ambrose smiled. "Don't be dramatic, Punk. You heard me."

Punk retraced his steps to the wall where Dean stood. His head was pounding, each footstep echoing in his temples. "I heard you. I guess I just didn't want to believe it. You spied on us? And sent me those texts? What kind of sick fuck are you?"

Dean smiled again. "Let's not rehash old promos. Aren't you going to ask me why I sent you those messages?"

Punk was choking on his rage and had to force the word out from between clenched teeth. "Why?"

Dean straightened up. "I'm black mailing you of course," he said nonchalantly.

Punk shook his head, his anger spiking so high he was shaking trying to keep from flat out attacking Dean. But he was also confused. "Why would you do that? After all the help I've given you?"

Dean shrugged. "Well now you're about to give me a little bit more."

"What do you want?"

"I've languished down in Florida long enough. I want out of NXT and up to the main roster."

Punk's mouth dropped. "Are you fucking serious? I can't control that. Besides, so what if you know I'm John's sub. Good luck trying to make that story stick."

Dean laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "You don't think I'd go through all this trouble if all I had was Dean said – Punk said bullshit?" He laughed again, shaking his head like he was seriously amused. "Oh no, I got just about everything that happened behind those crates on camera." Dean got up close in his face. "You had me hard as a rock watching you take Cena's cock up your ass with such … enthusiasm." He reached down and attempted to squeeze his ass. "I'm almost tempted to add having you bend over for me so pretty to the cost of my silence."

Punk roughly knocked his hand away in disgust. "Don't fucking touch me."

Dean smiled. "That's right, that collar you're so proud to wear means nobody can touch you but John. What was it you said? You don't care if everyone knows you wear Cena's collar?" His face changed in an instant, all traces of mocking humor gone. Now he was serious. "Well everyone will if you don't give me what I want. And by everyone I don't just mean the roster. I'll post that video to YouTube and the whole fucking world will know that you two have more than just in ring chemistry. Just think of all the disillusioned little Cenation members when they find out their hero likes to play with whips and ball gags. And how sad all the fat horny housewives will be when they see where Cena prefers to stick his Superman cock." He tskd. "I think they'll be the saddest of all. So unless you want that to happen you'd better find a way to get me on TV on Monday nights."

Punk stared into Dean's blue eyes. They were so different from John's, pale and eerily focused. He'd never noticed that before. He'd always just taken that for intensity in his work. Guess he'd been wrong. "You're crazy."

"That's established fact," he said with a shrug. "You've got one week to make your decision. Something at Survivor Series would be nice don't you think?" Dean started backing away with a smirk. "Oh, and Seth comes with me. I'll be waiting for your call. You've got my number, right?"

He laughed and walked off.

* * *

**A/N:** Cripes! I've had this plot spinning around in my head from the moment The Shield debuted. Finally it's out. We all know Dean winds up on TV, but so many other things to find out. See you next week! ;-)

Oh, and Life Full of Laughter & mxjoyride guessed correctly! Names in a hat for a one-shot?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** It's been awhile, yeah? I'm in the middle of writing a book and my brain is so freaking exhausted every day it's been hard to work on my fics. Boo! But my fics are my fun writing, maybe I should write more to keep my head fresh. ;-) Repeat song _Apologize_ by OneRepublic

* * *

Punk staggered onto his bus. He was in shock. He couldn't believe it was Dean who'd sent those filthy texts. He'd expected it to be someone who hated him, like Miz or maybe Ryback or Kidd because they were jealous over the relationship he had with John. He never would have thought it was Dean Ambrose.

He'd done nothing but help Dean since he'd arrived in the WWE, hell even before then. Punk respected everything he'd been through on the indie circuit to get to where he was. After he was signed he'd gone down to FCW and put him over. He'd even tweeted that pic of him headed down the entrance ramp last summer, naming him as their secret weapon. But now Dean was blackmailing him! What the hell kind of person did that to someone who'd helped them?

The bus lurched out of the arena. He didn't know what the fuck he was going to do. He didn't want to give in to Dean's insane demand, but he couldn't ignore him either. Something like that leaked to the public would ruin John's career. And it would be his fault. He thought of the shit storm that would rip through the WWE if that video were to ever get out. They would both be fired for starters. Vince would be furious at the negative attention drawn to his company. And John's reputation would be ruined. The image of him having sex with another man who also happened to be wearing a collar would destroy everything he'd built over the past ten years. He knew that financially John didn't need to work for the next twenty life times. But John walked down that ramp every week because he loved the job, loved the fans, and loved the WWE. If Ambrose posted that video of them all of that would be gone. No more being the face of the company he loved, no more reaching out to the servicemen and women, and definitely no more doing any Make-A-Wish commitments. All of that would be gone and he would be left with nothing but Punk. And since he was the one to blame for all this, he couldn't imagine that John would want to stay with him for long.

And he had to admit that he would be extremely uncomfortable if this were to get out. He wasn't worried about being outted as gay. He'd always been supportive of the gay community. But to be found out like this in such a private moment, especially when he was still adjusting to his role as John's submissive. He knew that he would go through months of media embarrassment before things calmed down. He'd weather it, but he'd rather not have to.

Punk dropped his head into his hands. All of this was his fault. He was the one who'd tempted John into having sex in the back. And he was the one who couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut, making enough noise to draw Ambrose to them. He got up and made his way to the bed berth. He dropped down heavily onto the mattress and laid there as the bus rolled on to the next city where he'd meet up with John. There was no way he was going to sleep. He just laid there with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. What the fuck was he going to do about Ambrose?

Punk opened the hotel room door to see John already sitting up on the bed, the remote in his hand. When he saw him a welcoming smile immediately crossed his face.

"Hey. About time you made it in."

He went into the room and set his bags down. He could have been there sooner, but he'd asked his driver to drive for about a half an hour past the exit before doubling back to drop him off. Punk didn't say anything and the smile dropped from John's face, replaced by a concerned frown.

"Is everything alright?" He got up and came over to him.

Punk looked into those worried blue eyes. He wanted to tell him. Let him know that they'd been spied on and were now being blackmailed by Dean Ambrose. But he couldn't make himself say it. This was all his fault. And John would be furious. Maybe even angry enough to end things with him for causing this whole situation. But he still should tell him. This involved him too. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"Yeah. I just didn't sleep at all on the ride up here. It's got me feeling kinda off."

John pulled him into his arms. "Damn, after you were so relaxed in Tampa. I'm sorry baby."

John kissed him but he turned his face away after only a second. John tugged him towards the bed.

"Come lie down. We'll relax until you fall asleep."

He allowed John to pull him into the bed. Now he felt seriously guilty. He'd lied. And after everything they'd gone through before with John hiding things from him he felt like the worst fucking hypocrite. Punk promised himself he would tell him, he just wanted the chance to fix things first.

* * *

Punk sat cross-legged on a trunk backstage. He had his phone out staring at the calendar. Ambrose had given him one week. But he knew he couldn't wait that long. If he was going to convince McMahon to bring up Dean and apparently Seth Rollins as well he'd need time to work on him. He sort of had an idea brewing that could work to get them both on screen. He hated that it would put Ambrose in such a high-profile spot. But he needed an idea that was so spectacular that Vince wouldn't say no.

"What are you looking at?"

Punk jumped in fear and almost dropped his phone. He calmed when he saw it was John.

"Did you just shriek?"

Punk ran his hand over his head. "I'm a man. I don't shriek."

John laughed. "I think the noise you just made was definitely a shriek. A body only jumps like that when he's guilty of something."

Panic went through Punk. He tried to keep it out of his expression but when John stopped laughing he knew he'd failed.

"What's wrong? What are you looking at?"

He thought fast. "The dirt sheets."

John frowned. "Don't look at that shit. It's all crazy rumors and bitching, mostly about me."

Punk cursed under his breath. He'd lied again and now John's mood was affected. He got down off the crate and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry."

John kissed him on the temple. "That's alright. It's not that big of a deal. Let's get up front and run through tonight." He playfully buzzed his knuckles over his head. "Unless you want to find some more crates to hide behind."

Punk just barely managed to keep from reacting to that and making John even more suspicious. He knew Dean wasn't there tonight but he was too paranoid now to even think about fooling around with John anywhere public. He casually stepped out of his embrace. "Let's get up front."

* * *

Punk waited just outside the gorilla position. Despite the cloud of blackmail hanging over his head he was actually in a good mood. He'd had fun on RAW tonight. Ryback came through the curtain first. Punk was surprised when Ryback spoke.

"That was great tonight, Punk. I had fun." He grinned slightly. "Tug o' war. I liked that."

Ryback walked off just as John burst through the curtain. He started laughing as soon as he saw Punk standing there. John grabbed him in a head lock.

"You're an idiot. How adorable were you trying to get your belt back from us two meat heads?"

Punk wiggled out of John's grip. "I told you guys that spot would be over. The crowd was laughing their heads off."

John shook his head, laughter still shining in his blue eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone have as much fun playing the bad guy as you. But do you think you had your ass in my face enough tonight or what?"

Punk grinned. "What? You didn't seem to mind it the other night. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure your exact words were, 'best ass in the world'."

John grabbed him in another head lock. "Why do I put up with you?"

Again Punk wiggled out from underneath the big arm, sliding up his chest to whisper in his ear, "Because I let you fuck me however you want."

John groaned and stepped away from him. "I think my hand would give out before I was able to spank all that sassiness out of you."

Punk just shrugged, another grin tugging at his mouth.

"Vince just told me they need me to do a few more promos for upcoming shows so I'm gonna go clean up and take care of them as fast as I can. I'll catch you before you pull out of here, alright?"

Punk nodded and accepted John's quick kiss. After he was gone he turned back to the gorilla. This was actually perfect. He knew Vince stayed in there for a while after the show, going over everything. He was hoping to catch Vince alone. He was in luck. Paul was just leaving as he went back through the curtain. He said bye to the big blonde and turned his attention to McMahon.

"Hey Vince. You gotta minute?"

Vince looked at his watch. "I have about five. What do you need?"

Punk leaned against the desk where Vince sat. "I've got an idea for my current storyline."

"Oh yeah? Well let's hear it."

Punk wasn't surprised at Vince's listening to his idea. Ever since he'd proposed the Straight Edge Society and it turned out to be successful, Vince was always willing to listen to his ideas. Convincing him to go along with them was another deal altogether, especially now that he was the WWE Champion.

"You want to me to retain up until the Rumble right? But I'm up against Super Man and the Incredible Hulk. The odds are stacked against me. What about having somebody come in and interfere in the match to help me win?"

Vince frowned. "I don't know about that."

Punk smiled. "C'mon Vince. You know you don't like to have Cena lose clean. And it works perfectly for me as the heel in the match."

"We can't just have anybody come out and interfere, Punk. What about Orton? Fans have been clamoring for his heel turn for awhile now." He looked thoughtful. "Actually that could be good."

Punk cut him off before he could get too set on the idea. "No, not Orton. It doesn't make any sense that he would help me. We storyline hate each other, remember? Let's not drop continuity on that."

"Fine, fine. Maybe somebody really unexpected like -."

Punk cut him off again. "I was thinking somebody not on the main roster. Why don't we do another Survivor Series debut? You've launched some pretty big names at this pay per view over the years."

Vince looked smug. "That's true."

"We could bring up some guys from NXT."

Vince's eyebrows shot up. "We just brought Cesaro to the main roster not too long ago. And Ryback hasn't been up that long himself."

Punk was ready for that argument. "Don't worry about that. Just think of the impact. Two non-rostered guys getting involved in a main event match? That'd be big. One of those completely out of left field swerves that keep people talking about a show for weeks. People will definitely turn in on Monday to find out more about them. And I know two guys perfect for the role." He took a deep breath. "Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins."

Vince laughed. "You're crazy, Punk. I might have gone for debuting two NXT guys in the main event of Survivor Series. But those two? Rollins has been working as a baby face down there and nobody knows what the hell to do with Ambrose. The idea has wheels, but not with them."

Punk fought to stay calm. He didn't want to lose him now that he'd come this far. If Vince debuted someone else from NXT it would be even longer before Dean got called up. And who knew what he would do with that video if that happened. "I've wrestled them both and they're amazing in the ring. If you bring them up the indie crowd will go nuts. Both of them were internet darlings before you signed them. Having them debut will get those fans on your side."

Vince grunted, his lip curled in disdain. "It would be nice to get those damn smarks to quit bitching for awhile. But they're small guys. I don't see them striking fear in the hearts of Cena and Ryback."

Punk caught himself before he rolled his eyes. Vince just wouldn't let go of his belief that big guys were the only ones who could be stars. "Then put them with one more person, somebody big. Maybe Mason Ryan or…" He thought fast. "Rock's cousin. What's he going by now, Roman Reigns, right? Either of those two would work. Dress them in all black, that'll make Ambrose and Rollins more intimidating. They can take out Ryback and Cena and I can sneak in with the win. It's perfect."

He forced himself to stop talking and let Vince think. But he was desperately hoping this would work. It was the only thing he could think of that would get both Ambrose and Rollins on the roster fast.

"I don't like Ryan for this. He's already been part of a group with the Nexus."

"Then go with Reigns."

Vince looked at him over his glasses. "You know I don't like factions on my show. But this might work. Let me run it by Paul and Stephanie."

Punk wanted to beg Vince to make up his mind right then, but he knew he couldn't. Instead he thanked him for his time and headed back to the locker room. This had to work. It had to.

* * *

Punk had a few days off before Sunday's show off so he'd come home to Chicago. Ordinarily he would have been glad for it, but all he'd done the past few days was worry over whether or not Vince would go for his plan. Punk looked at his phone. He hadn't received anymore texts from Ambrose. He hadn't expected any now that that crazy motherfucker had revealed himself and what he wanted. But this time _he_ was actually thinking about contacting Ambrose. Punk brought up his number and hit the call button. After two rings Dean's lazy voice came across the line.

"Punk. To what do I owe the pleasure? Calling with good news I hope?"

"Not yet. I just wanted to let you know that I got Vince thinking of an idea to bring you guys up. It might not happen but I'm trying."

Dean laughed. "There is no try, Punk. Your big geek of a boyfriend can tell you that."

Punk couldn't believe it. This was fucking serious and Dean was quoting Yoda at him. "Look. I'm just telling you that I made my decision and I'm doing what I can to get you on the main roster. So there's no need for you to keep that video. You can delete it now." He swallowed hard, hating having to humble himself for this asshole. "Please."

"But I don't want to delete it. John was right. I might not ever know what it feels like to have my dick in that sweet little ass of yours, but I can imagine it pretty good every time I watch it."

Punk thought he was going to throw up. "You're disgusting. How can you watch that?"

Dean's tone was surprised. "What? It's just like any other porn."

Punk lost it. "Because you know us you fucking low-life pervert!" His face was hot and he was breathing hard into the phone. Dean had to be jerking him around and that pissed him off. He couldn't actually be crazy enough to think it was okay to watch him and John having sex.

The line went quiet after his outburst. When Dean spoke again his voice was no longer friendly. It had taken on that creepy tone that Punk had only ever heard in his promos.

"Don't you ever yell at me like that again. As a matter of fact, I don't want to hear from you unless you're calling to tell me to pack my bags for TV. Do you fucking understand me?"

Punk couldn't bring himself to answer him. He was fucking furious, but he didn't want to antagonize him any further. Too much was at risk. He just made a noise to acknowledge that he'd heard.

"Remember Punk. You might wear Cena's collar but I'm the one who owns your ass."

The line went silent. Dean had hung up on him.

* * *

Punk woke early on Sunday morning. He rolled over and looked at John sleeping next to him in the bed. They'd gotten in to Indianapolis separately late last night. After greeting each other they'd gone straight to sleep. He hadn't heard anything from Vince or creative on plans for bringing the NXT guys into their feud. If he didn't and Dean retaliated by leaking that video this could be the last time he woke up next to John.

He slipped down under the sheet and rubbed his cheek over the soft cotton that covered John's hips. He tugged them down slightly to reveal his shaft, brushing his lips across it. John was still asleep, but his body responded to his touch. He licked at him lightly, running his tongue over the hardening flesh. John came awake with a moan as he sucked him into his mouth. Punk kept going, slowly sliding his lips up and down until John was fully hard in his mouth. John grabbed his arms and pulled him from underneath the covers.

"That's a nice way to wake up," he said with a sleepy smile.

John rolled on top of him. Before John could take control, Punk wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "Can we be together just us this morning? No dominance."

John raised up and looked at him. "Of course. All you have to do is ask."

Punk pushed John to his back and straddled him. He leaned down to press his lips to John's in a slow kiss. He wanted to have this time with him before whatever happened tonight. John's arms came around him as they kissed, holding him close. Punk stayed in his warm embrace for several moments before he forced himself to break free.

He made his way down John's body, trailing his lips over his smooth skin. John's hands stayed on him, caressing his back and arms as he kissed him everywhere. His fingers traced the hard ridges of the muscles on John's torso, his lips following where he touched. He worshipped John with light kisses all the way down his thighs.

Punk slowly worked his way back up the big body beneath him, but this time he stopped at John's narrow hips. Nipping at the sensitive skin of his pelvis, he steadily made his way across his groin until his lips brushed the rigid column laying across his belly. Punk dragged his tongue up and down the thick length then lapped at the deliciously swollen head. With a soft moan he sucked John into his mouth, relishing the heat of him against his tongue. He sucked softly, quietly, barely making a sound as he pleasured his Dom just how he knew he liked.

John's hands came down on top of his head, not pushing him, but rubbing over his hair, tugging at his ears. One of his big hands trailed down to his neck. Punk jerked, not in pain but with arousal as John's blunt nails dug into his shoulders. John rasped his name, his hips curling up, making his shaft slide further into his mouth. Goosebumps chased across Punk's skin and he moaned. He let John go, crawling back up his body to be met by John grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him down into a hard kiss. They were breathing hard, bodies pressing and rubbing together, their hands touching everywhere. John's rough whisper sounded in his ear.

"Now, baby."

Punk leaned over to one of their bags on the side of the bed. He dug through until his fingers came in contact with a bottle of lube. He returned to kissing all over John's chest and abs while he prepared them both. When they were ready he rose up and fit the head of John's shaft against him and slowly pushed down onto him. John's fingers dug into his hips and he exhaled on a harsh breath. Punk leaned down and kissed him again as he worked his body up and down so that John's shaft penetrated him deeply. He brushed his fingers up John's smooth jaw to whisper in his ear.

"I love having you inside me, John." He kissed his neck. "I'd do anything for you."

John pushed him up slightly so that they were looking at each other. He returned the sentiment, but Punk saw the confusion in his eyes. He kissed him again, moving faster, unashamedly using his body to distract him. Punk braced his palms on John's broad chest and pushed himself up straight. He slid up and down on the thick shaft inside him, over and over, squeezing his body tight, moving fast enough to push John to the edge.

Punk watched John as he rode him. Saw the muscle clenching in his jaw. Saw his blue eyes dark and heavy lidded with lust. A harshly whispered curse slipped from between his full lips. John went to grasp his cock but Punk moved his hand away.

"I'll do it." He wanted to do everything for John this quiet morning. He couldn't apologize for the mess he'd gotten them in since John was unaware of it, but he could at least do this. He grasped his own shaft with one hand, keeping himself braced on John's chest with the other and started to stroke himself off.

John's body was humming with pleasure as Punk slid up and down on his cock. But he knew something was wrong with his lover. It wasn't his upcoming surgery like he'd said before. He just didn't know what it was. He reached for Punk's cock but Punk pushed him away, doing it himself. It wasn't something to complain about. He loved seeing Punk's heavily tattooed hand wrapped around his thick shaft.

John watched his lover, his eyes roving everywhere. Punk's flushed face. His colorfully inked chest and soft belly gleaming with sweat. His smooth thighs gripping his waist so tightly. But his attention was hooked by the sight of Punk pumping his fist along his shaft. John gave in and watched, his eyes locked on the visual treat going on right in front of him. Punk's fingers gripped his cock tight, the pink flesh stiff and shiny and wet. John bit his lip and lightly ran his fingers over his lover's smoothly shaven balls. He loved to hear the slick sound his cock made as it slid through his fist. Punk groaned as he rubbed his thumb over the damp crown of his shaft and John felt his muscles clenching around him. He knew his lover was close and he encouraged him to seek his pleasure.

"Let go, Phil."

Punk shook his head. "No. You first."

Raising his knees, John braced his feet on the bed and clenched his hands tight around Punk's thighs. He thrust his hips up swift and hard, making Punk gasp as he bounced on his lap. John's spine was tingling, his balls aching as he listened to the soft little panting moans coming from his lover. His cock was throbbing, the friction as Punk squeezed all around him pushing him closer and closer to the sharp, sweet tension of release. John grabbed Punk by the ass, yanking his body down tight against him as he thrust up hard one last time. His cock pulsed and he cursed softly as he came deep inside the snug heat of his lover.

Punk's desperate groan brought John out of the fog of pleasure left by his release. He was still gripped by Punk's channel and he felt his inner muscles clenching with his approaching climax. He moved a hand to wrap his fist over where Punk gripped himself, squeezing tight, and pumping fast. Punk cried out his name, his hips thrusting forward as his orgasm poured from him in a creamy rush.

John looked at Punk, watching his face as he experienced the sweet agony of his climax. The familiar expression of pleasure was there, but there was something else in his eyes. And just before Punk closed them John recognized what it was. Guilt.

XX

Punk folded down over John, his legs still on either side of his waist. He lay there waiting for his racing heart to calm. The warm weight of John's hand brushed over his hair.

"You've got something to tell me, don't you."

Punk pressed his forehead hard to the muscle of John's shoulder. That hadn't been a question. He should have known John would pick up on what he was feeling. "Yeah."

"But you don't want to tell me right now."

Punk forced himself to stop hiding against John. He moved off of him to his side and looked him in the eye. "Can you give me a couple of days?" He still had hope that Ambrose and Rollins would be called up for the pay per view tonight. It would be last minute, but Vince and creative operated like that all the time. If that didn't happen he would try to work something else out with Dean. He would rather go to John with the problem already solved if he could.

John gripped his chin firmly. "You know I don't like this."

Punk stared into John's eyes focused so directly on him. He held his breath, hoping John wouldn't outright demand he tell him right now.

"But I respect you so I'll give you a few days. No more than that."

Punk nodded and let John pull him back against his chest.

* * *

Later that day, he and John walked into the Fieldhouse. They hadn't yet made it to the locker room when Punk spied Seth Rollins. He called out to him, hoping like crazy he was there because they were called up to be on the Survivor Series pay per view.

"Rollins. What are you doing here, man?"

Seth came over with a big smile on his face. "I'm on the card tonight! Me, Dean, and Roman each got a call yesterday to coordinate on some black gear and get our asses up here to Indianapolis. I don't know what we're doing yet but I don't care. I'm debuting at Survivor Series. Can you fucking believe it?"

Punk was shaky with relief. It looked like Vince had gone for his idea. "That's great, man." Punk tried to put some enthusiasm in his voice. He really was glad Seth was getting this shot. He just wished it wasn't coming about like this. And he also didn't know if Seth was in on Ambrose's scheme. He hoped that he wasn't and from his genuinely happy surprise it didn't seem like he was. He put his hand out.

"Congrats. Welcome to the big top."

Seth grinned again. "Thanks."

They'd just finished putting their gear away in their locker cubbies when a gopher poked his head around the door.

"Punk, Mr. Cena. Mr. McMahon would like to see you both in the conference room.

John looked at Punk. "Guess we're about to find out the finish for our triple threat match tonight."

"Yeah, finally."

John followed Punk into the conference room the staff member led them to. He took note of everyone in the room. Vince sat at the head of the table, Hunter and Steph on either side of him. Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins sat next to each other on one side of the table, Roman Reigns opposite them. Ryback sat a few spaces down. Senior members of the creative team were mixed in amongst them. The chair at the foot of the table and the one to the right were both empty. Vince waved at the chair at the end.

Have a seat, John."

John went to the chair and pulled it out. "Have a seat, Champ," he said to Punk. Punk laughed and strode to take the seat. John was glad to see him moving with his normal cocky demeanor. Whatever was on his mind had Punk worried, which meant he was worried. He sat down in the last chair. Vince got the meeting started after a brief glance down at the leather portfolio in front of him.

"Alright we're all here to go over the main event."

Again John looked around the room. Vince and his staff's expressions didn't change. They clearly already knew what was up. Ryback did his normal grunt-head nod combo. Rollins perked up in his chair, his face brightening with excitement. Reigns looked mildly surprised, a raised eyebrow the only change in his expression. However, it was the reactions of the last two people in the room that interested him most. Ambrose had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. And Punk looked sickly relieved, like he'd just avoided a bad fall in a ladder match. Until Dean pulled his phone out and sat it on the table. He tapped the screen once and Punk tensed right back up. And just like that, John knew whatever was bothering Punk was because of Dean Ambrose.

He looked at the man with a narrowed gaze. Ambrose must have felt his eyes on him because he looked over. He stared at him, his pale eyes wide and oddly gleeful. John stared back but Ambrose didn't blink. Vince started talking again and John forced himself to tear his gaze away. He didn't want to concede defeat in their childish staring contest, but Vince was moving on.

"Punk is retaining tonight but we want to make sure we have a finish completely different from Summer Slam's triple threat to keep things fresh. Punk came up with a good one."

John was surprised. Punk hadn't mentioned anything about a suggestion for their finish. He gave his attention back to Vince.

"You three," he indicated Ambrose, Rollins, and Reigns, "will be forming a group. You'll come from the audience once Ryback has taken out Cena to take Ryback down. Punk will pick up the victory over one of them after that." Vince peered over his glasses at the NXT boys. "Did you all get black gear like you were instructed?"

Rollins, who was practically bouncing in his chair, reached down to grab something next to his chair. John saw it was a Target bag when he set it on the table. "Yes, Sir."

Stephanie smiled at him. "Let's see it. If it's not right we still have time to have someone make a trip to the store.

Rollins pulled out black pants and a black turtle neck. "We also got black combat boots."

Hunter spoke up. "I like it. You guys will look just like security, which is what we're going for."

Seth grinned again, his tongue sticking slightly between his teeth. "Thanks, I picked everything out. These two were hopeless. And thanks for the opportunity."

Vince closed his portfolio. "Thank Punk. Like I said it was his idea."

John watched as both Rollins and Reigns offered Punk sincere thanks. Ambrose on the other hand said thanks with smugness so thick in his voice he wanted to ask him what the fuck his problem was.

"Arn should be waiting ringside to go over the match with you boys. He has a good idea for a finisher that the three of you can use as a team. We'll come up with a name for you all later."

Vince stood, making it clear the meeting was over. Everyone else rose from their chairs as well. Ambrose, Rollins, and Reigns filed out together, Rollins still excitedly going on about tonight. Ryback walked alone. John walked with Punk. He pulled him aside before they went down to the ring. "You didn't tell me you suggested this to Vince."

"I wasn't sure he would go for it. But it'll be a good start to a great program."

"You don't look too excited about it."

Punk sighed. "You know how you're the good guy all the time even though you don't want to be?"

"Yeah."

"Well this is sort of like that. I may not like it, but it's for the good of the company."

"I can understand that." He pulled Punk close to him. "Don't think I didn't notice that tension between you and Ambrose. We will be talking about that. Sooner rather than later."

Punk nodded. "I know. Let's go work out this match."

* * *

The main event of Survivor Series was well under way. Despite John's saying that he didn't look too excited about this match he was actually having a good time. He was working with John and as always he loved being in the ring with him. He was having fun, showing off and dancing after he'd put Ryback down. Now he glanced at John as they prepared to double team Ryback.

They took him to the ground with hard punches, then together they ripped up the announce table. Punk held back his grin as they suplexed him through the table. A sharp pain shot through his knee but he ignored it. The match was nearing its end, which meant Ambrose and Rollins were on their way out. He was almost out of this insane soap-opera worthy situation he was in.

Almost before he realized it, Ryback had slammed John to the ground with the Shell Shock. He was on the edge of the apron when he caught a sea of black swarming into the ring. Punk stayed out of the way as Ambrose, Rollins, and Reigns attacked Ryback. He watched from the corner as they dragged the big man out of the ring and lifted him up for the triple power bomb that Arn Anderson had come up with for them. They sent him crashing through a table for the second time that night then disappeared back over the barricade just as quick as they'd come. Punk crawled over and got the pin on John. His music blared with his victory and he hopped up on one foot, trying not to put any weight on his sore knee. But that pain didn't matter. The finish had gone off perfectly. He'd managed to save both his and John's careers and avoid a public relations nightmare for the company _and_ put on an excellent show. He couldn't help but feel triumphant. He was the best in the world.

Punk came back through the curtain after the match. The NXT boys were there celebrating their first appearance on WWE TV. Punk caught Dean's eye and nodded towards the back. Dean acknowledged him and Punk headed that way. He'd gotten Dean what he wanted. Now he was determined to get him to delete that video.

* * *

**A/N**: Bad fanfic writer! I didn't realize that I haven't had Punk get himself off very much when he's with John (being handcuffed makes that difficult I assume) But after listening to the brand-spanking-new Wrestling with Smut podcast I knew I had to fix that. Check them out! They talk about wrestling fanfics from our perspective. It's hilarious. Thanks ladies!

Also, I fucked up on my timeline of events. So errr... pretend November 2012 had an extra week in it. Sorry!

/megapowersradio/2013/10/10/wrestling-with-smut


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